Tag: Death

Abide in Him

A.B. Simpsonby A.B. Simpson

Whosoever abideth in him sinneth not —1 John 3:6

What becomes of our old nature when we are sanctified? Many people are unduly concerned to know if it can be killed outright and seem to desire a sort of certificate of its death and burial. It is enough to know that it is outside and Christ is in us. It may show itself again, and even knock at the door and plead for admittance, but it is forever outside while we abide in Him. Should we step out of Him and into sin we might find the old corpse in the ghastly cemetery, and its foul aroma might yet embrace and overcome us once more. But he that abideth in him sinneth not and cannot sin while he so abides.

Let us therefore abide and let us not be anxious to escape the hold of eternal vigilance and ceaseless abiding. Our paths are made and we are given strength to pursue them; let us then walk in them. God has provided for us a full sanctification. Since He has given us His own holiness, is it strange that he should require us to be holy, even as He is holy? Let us then put on our beautiful garments and prepare to walk in white with Him.

by A.B. Simpson

If This Were Your Last Day

A.W. Tozerby A.W. Tozer

Show me, O LORD, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. Psalm 39:4

To each one fortunate enough to live out 1959, God will have given 365 days broken into 8,760 hours. Of these hours, 2,920 will have been spent in sleep, and about the same number at work. An equal number has been given us to spend in reverent preparation for the moment when days and years shall cease and time shall be no more. What prayer could be more spiritually appropriate than that of Moses, the man of God: “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12).

It is important that we remember that all our days come to us out of the sheer mercy of God, unearned, undeserved and, I fear, mostly unappreciated. By sin our lives stand under forfeit; God owes us nothing. The bell that tolls the death of the passing year might as justly toll for us. Only by God’s infinite goodness are we yet alive to see each other’s face. Each year is a gift of grace and each day an unearned bonus.

I think it is typical of us that we take our days for granted. We say at the start of each year, “This may be the last,” and resolve to amend our lives; but before many days have passed we forget our resolutions and grow bold and arrogant again, deceived by the apparent prodigality with which our days are given to us, heaped up, shaken together and running over. But all things have an end. The pitcher goes once too often to the well; the old tree braves one too many storms and comes down with a great crash upon the hill; the strongest heart weakens at last and sputters to a stop.

by A.W. Tozer